


Kith and Kindred

by shadeshifter



Series: Finding Home [14]
Category: Angel: the Series, Constantine (TV), Highlander: The Series, NCIS, Numb3rs, Supernatural, The Sentinel, The Wolf Among Us
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadeshifter/pseuds/shadeshifter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or five times people knew there was something supernatural about the team and one time they really, really didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sentinel

“Detective Ellison?” Lindsey asked, approaching the tall, imposing man at the scene. He’d read a brief biography of the man, but it hadn’t really done him justice. The shorter man at his side practically overflowed with barely restrained energy. Lindsey flipped open his ID. “FBI Agent Lindsey McDonald.”

“Something I can do for you, Agent?” the man asked. 

“My team is investigating a serial killer and we’re looking into the similarities your case presents to ours,” Lindsey told him. It was close enough to the truth. 

“We’re looking at the husband as a suspect,” the shorter one said. Ellison’s partner Sandburg, if Lindsey remembered correctly.

“Chief,” Ellison said, a note of warning in his tone, his hand coming to rest heavily on the other man’s shoulder.

“I’d still like to take a look at your folders, if you don’t mind,” Lindsey said, though if the husband was the chief suspect it seemed unlikely that this case was connected to theirs. There was a low growl and Ellison immediately turned, glancing around.

“What is it, Jim?” Sandburg asked.

“I thought I heard a cat,” Ellison said as casually as he could. There was another growl and Lindsey saw a jaguar pacing restlessly around them. 

“I’m not here to invade your territory,” Lindsey told him, annoyed at the obvious attempt at intimidation. Both men gave him suspicious looks at that and Lindsey was tempted to roll his eyes. Sandburg took a step forward, easing himself between the two men.

“I’m sure we can all find a way to co-operate,” Sandburg said with an easy smile.

“Sure,” Lindsey agreed. “Now would you rein in your jaguar?” 

He looked at Ellison when he said the last. 

“You can see it?” Ellison demanded, shifting his stance to be both more aggressive toward Lindsey and protective of Sandburg.

“Of course I can. It’s a fairly obvious representation of your spiritual essence manifested to combat a perceived threat.”

“This is fascinating,” Sandburg said. “Have you always been able to see the metaphysical? Or is something that came later in life?”

“Chief,” Ellison cautioned.

“Jim, this might be our chance to find answers to some of those questions that we’ve had trouble finding answers to,” Blair told him. 

Lindsey folded his arms, having very little interest in coaching amateurs. They’d either work it out or they’d get in over their heads. It wasn’t his issue. 

“Rein in your jaguar before I do it for you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Two hours later saw Tony shaking hands with Simon Banks. The former promising to take his agent and leave town, the latter promising that this kind of behaviour really wasn’t typical or indicative of the general attitude of the department. Lindsey pressed an icepack to his eye and grinned viciously when Ellison limped in the opposite direction down the hallway.


	2. Highlander

Methos folded his arms as the two cops continued to question him about the body a few feet away. He hadn’t been able to flee the scene before the cops arrived and he could still feel the Quickening crackling through his veins, making him antsy and impatient. He had managed to conceal his sword, at least.

He tensed when he sensed another Immortal. The thought of having to deal with the man approaching them, flashing an FBI ID, left him feeling both keyed up and exhausted. He knew as soon as he got home he was probably going to crash. 

“Agent Matthew McCormick,” the man told them, introducing himself. His accent was distinctively Southern, but Methos knew that meant very little. “I believe I can take it from here, officers.”

The officers looked over McCormick ID, then nodded to him and moved away to maintain the integrity of the scene until the crime scene technicians could arrive.

He was sure he’d heard about McCormick in association with the BAU. Something about travelling the country, investigating mysterious beheadings, Methos thought. It was an amusing cover story, if not slightly problematic for Methos himself. Law enforcement was a good cover for headhunting.

The FBI was large, he hadn’t really expected to be the only Immortal with the idea of hiding under its aegis, but he’d done a good job of avoiding any potential confrontations. It would be a pity to ruin that now.

“Agent Adam Baines,” Methos said, showing the man his own ID. McCormick evaluated him with a keen eye, undoubtedly determining how much of a threat Methos was. Methos gave his best ingenuous expression, perfected over the years of pretending to be MacLeod’s slightly pathetic student. As long as MacLeod never realised what he was doing. Or Kronos. Neither would ever let him live it down.

“I’ve been investigating a series of beheadings,” McCormick told him and he glanced at the body. Methos’ gaze didn’t leave McCormick. 

“How gruesome,” Methos said blandly.

“Indeed,” McCormick said, returning his gaze to Methos.

“A pity I stumbled onto the scene after the fact and didn’t witness the event itself. I might have been able to provide a description.”

“The victim does bear an uncanny resemblance to my suspect.”

“Really?” Methos continued in the same tone. McCormick was silent a long moment as he stared at Methos.

“I don’t believe we have a problem,” McCormick said, like he expected a word between gentlemen to mean something. It reminded Methos rather strongly of MacLeod.

“Great,” Methos told him. “Then we’ll each go our separate ways and everyone’s happy.”

“Certainly,” McCormick agreed easily, still watching Methos with a calculating gaze. He had a feeling McCormick would be looking him up as soon as they parted ways. It was what Methos was going to do.


	3. Constantine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It doesn’t really come up, but if anyone’s wondering; I know Gabriel is a big part of the Constantine universe, but since Supernatural!Gabriel wasn't a dick, was dead, and is now on humanity's side – for the most part – pretend that Constantine has his little chats with a different angel.

Dean was almost surprised when they accidentally came across a demon possession and a hunter trying to deal with it. It had been so long since they'd dealt with a straightforward demon. It had been all angels and gods and Old Ones for longer than Dean cared to think about. It was almost strange to be dealing with demons again. At least, demons who weren't Kronos, and Dean still didn't know how he felt about him.

The hunter knew what he was doing, better than most hunters Dean had seen, Dean would give him that, but he was still struggling to deal with it alone. Hunting was never safe, but it was worse when you did it alone. Though usually, those to hunt too long alone, it wasn’t the things they hunted that got them.

“You should leave,” the hunter told him, British accent easily identifiable. He was dressed uncannily like Cas, too; top buttons of his shirt undone, tie dangling from a loose knot, like a rumpled businessman. Though Cas pulled it off better as far as Dean was concerned. “He’s dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, not moving as he watched the demon struggle. “I see that.”

Cas stood, a solid presence at Dean’s shoulder, and waited for his direction. Dean tried not to think about it too much, what that meant, because the overwhelming awe of it made him uncomfortable. No one had ever trusted him like Cas did, not his Dad and not Sam, who’d never really believed that their fight was his fight, too. No one until his team, but Cas had been first. 

“Cas, you got this?” Dean asked. Cas didn’t answer, simply stepped forward and pressed a hand to the possessed man’s forehead. Where his hand made contact light began to shine until it hurt to look at directly. Finally, it ended, and the man who had been possessed but was no longer, slumped to the ground, unconscious.

“Angel?” the man asked, looking from Cas to Dean. He looked wary and Dean completely understood, but this was Cas.

“Yeah, but he's not a dick.”

Cas looked at Dean, expression softening just a little, not quite easing into a smile, like Dean had given him a compliment. Dean grinned back.

“John Constantine,” the blond man said. 

“Dean Winchester,” Dean replied, noticing the brief flicker of recognition, then he gestured to Cas. “He's Cas.”

“Cas?” Constantine said, sounding the word like it tasted funny. 

“Just Cas,” Dean said and he grinned at Cas again who smiled faintly back at him.

“Yeah, well, thanks for the assist,” Constantine said, reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and tapping one out into his hand. 

“The assist?” Dean said, eyebrows raised. Constantine didn't seem to take note of the question and Dean was just getting himself ready to be riled up at that when Cas rested a hand on his arm. Reluctantly, Dean let himself be reined in, only because it was Cas.

Constantine smirked, it was barely noticeable, just a slight quirk of his mouth around the cigarette, but Dean knew what he was thinking. He narrowed his eyes and reached into his pocket and flicked a card at the man, who caught it easily.

“Next time you're in over your head, give me a call,” Dean said and he turned to Cas, wrapping an arm around his waist and nodding at him. The last thing he heard before Cas flew was Constantine growling out a curse.


	4. Dresden Files

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t caught up with Dresden Files since Turn Coat – I keep meaning to, I really do – so forgive me if anything’s a little too off.

Lindsey looked up from trying to work out a complicated arrangement of runes when Adam opened the door and came into the messy office they'd appropriated for the moment, shaking off snow and looking unhappy. He was never particularly happy when having to deal with the cold.

“That your other teammate?” Harry Dresden, wizard and private investigator, asked from where he pored over his own investigation into the runes that had been used in the first ritual, the one that had brought Tony's team to town in the first place. Lindsey nodded. 

Tony had sent Adam to investigate what he could about Dresden before they became further committed to working with him. Not that they had too much choice. They were dealing with a wizard who seemed to be delving into necromancy, so they needed an equally strong wizard on their side. 

Before Adam could take more than a few steps into the room he was accosted by the large mound of fur Dresden called Mouse. 

“Behave,” Adam snapped.

Adam stood, with the rather large dog, Mouse, now sitting at his feet and gazing up at him adoringly. Though Lindsey suspected Mouse was more likely on Adam’s feet, from the resigned but strangely patient expression Adam was wearing. Even sitting, Mouse was still over half Adam’s height. One of Adam’s hands was absently scratching behind Mouse’s ear.

Dresden looked over at where Dean and Tony were chatting with Bob, getting more ribald with each exchange, to where Adam was talking quietly but seriously to Mouse, who seemed to be listening intently and leaned more heavily against Adam if the way he swayed and barely managed to stay upright against the bulk of the dog was any indication.

“Huh,” Dresden said, eyes narrowing. 

“What?” Lindsey asked.

“Mouse is a temple dog,” Dresden told him. “Divine.”

“Huh,” Lindsey echoed, sure what Dresden was trying to get at, but there was no way he was going to try to explain that Adam was the fallen half of the Archangel Azrael.

“Good judge of character, though.”

Lindsey wondered what Adam would say to that. Nothing complimentary, he was sure. 

“So you’re a hedge wizard?” Dresden hazarded. Lindsey shrugged. It was as good a description as any. He didn’t have the raw power of Dresden or Rosenberg or even that Watcher of theirs, but he knew how to use what he did have. 

“Something like that.”

“You must have some skill with rituals,” Dresden said, eyes dropping to Lindsey's open collar and the runes and sigils tattooed there. Lindsey smirked and deliberately shrugged again.

“Something like that,” he repeated. Dresden rolled his eyes.

“How are you with circles?”

“To cut him off from the source of his power?”

They'd theorised that their bad guy had been drawing on far more power than he should ordinarily have access to, simply because of the scale of his previous ritual.

“Something like that,” Dresden said, mirroring Lindsey's smirk.

“That's good,” Lindsey said. “It could work.”

“Of course it will,” Dresden said, confident. “We just have to get him into one.”

“I wouldn't worry about it too much. We'll just do what we normally do,' Lindsey told him. Dresden raised an eyebrow in question. “Throw Dean at him and see what happens.”


	5. The Wolf Among Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place very soon after the end of the game. If you haven’t played it and want to, then beware of spoilers.
> 
> Otherwise, all you probably need to know is that Holly’s sister’s Lily was a prostitute and Woody (the Woodsman) was seeing her, but Holly didn’t find that out until Lily was murdered. Bigby (as in Big Bad) Wolf investigated the case as Sheriff and Snow White is the Deputy Mayor of Fable Town.

Tony was never letting Dean pick the post-case celebration bar again. Adam’s, at least, were usually agreeable, full of atmosphere and good music. Lindsey tended to go for karaoke, which was alright if he was singing, but torture when he wasn’t. Dean had an unerring ability of going straight for the shadiest, seediest bars Tony had ever seen. And Tony had been both in a frat and an undercover cop.

The Trip Trap seemed a little cleaner than most of Dean’s choices, but a lot tenser too. It was quiet when they entered and Tony had the feeling it had been quiet before, as well. The woman at the bar was fairly attractive, with white-grey hair and unlined skin that made it difficult to tell her age. She glanced briefly at the pale man slumped at the bar before removing the bottles and glasses from the counter. She stepped back and folded her arms, determinedly ignoring both them and a broad-shouldered, shaggy-haired man seated in a corner. 

Dean seated himself at the bar like there wasn’t anything strange going on. Lindsey shrugged and joined him. Tony glanced at Adam who was tense but appeared nonchalant. Adam met his gaze with a roll of his eyes before taking one of the tables, some distance from the other man. Tony was about to join him when another man entered the bar and the tension ratcheted up another notch. And that was before Tony noticed the axe at his side.

“Get out,” the woman snarled. 

“Holly,” the man said, pleading.

“No,” she said, turning her gaze from him, hands curling into fists. The pale man at the bar stood up and, despite being scrawny and looking vaguely sickly, Tony couldn’t help but feel he was a distinct threat. The man at the table in the corner rose, but didn’t otherwise move to intervene.

“Gren,” he warned softly. 

The pale man shook his head. 

“He’s not welcome here.”

Gren’s gaze cut back to Holly, softening just slightly, before turning back to the new arrival and hardening again. 

“Not after Lily.”

“Woody,” the other man said, voice gruff but compassionate, and the new arrival with the axe sighed, looking tired and a little defeated.

“I know, Wolf,” Woody said, nodded to the man in the corner. “Holly...”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Holly told him.

“I just...” Woody began. “I’m sorry.”

“She said she didn’t want to hear it,” Gren said and then his skin began to ripple, becoming even paler, until it lost any hint of colour. His features became grotesque and misshapen. 

“Grendel,” Holly said, eyes wide as she looked from Tony’s team to Wolf and back again.

Wolf’s eyes glowed yellow and, for a moment, Tony thought he was sprouting hair. No, that was actually fur. And dog ears. Or maybe wolf ears was more appropriate. Woody raised his hands in surrender and backed out of the bar without further complaint. Grendel snarled at Wolf, but backed down at Wolf’s rumbled growl of warning, and shifted back into his human guise. Wolf copied him a moment later. 

“Fables,” Lindsey told Tony and the tension in the room rose again. “Wolfram and Hart considered using them but they were considered too volatile and unpredictable.”

“We’ll count that as a point in their favour, I think,” Tony said. Ghosts, werewolves, demons, angels, Old Ones, wesen, and now fables. He wondered if there was ever going to be a time when the supernatural didn’t knock him for a loop.

“You’re mundies,” Wolf said. Tony had no idea what that meant, but clearly at least Lindsey did since he shook his head. Adam, too, Tony would guess. There seemed to be very little Adam didn’t know.

“Not exactly,” Lindsey told him. “But we’re not fables either.”

“Snow’s just going to love this,” Wolf said. He sounded tired. 

“Beer before paperwork,” Adam said, slapping him on the shoulder. Wolf looked startled at the contact.

“First round’s on me,” Tony said, because it never hurt to make new alliances.


	6. Numb3rs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The result of rewatching Numb3rs and Charlie’s rather rigid views on the non-existence of anything paranormal looked like it’d be a fun mix with the team. Also, the math is probably incorrect. What can I say, I live for the Humanities.

Tony listened while Eppes filled them in on the case. He tried his best to appear attentive, but it didn't seem like they had too clear an idea of what was killing people and he could tell his own people had a fairly good one. And it wasn't going to be something the majority of the FBI would accept. 

“Charlie?” Eppes said, looking at short man with wildly curly hair. “You got something that can help us?”

“I can create a Bayesian network of conditional probabilities, factoring in the data we have and determining which aspects of the case affect which others and how significantly,” Charlie told them, already uncapping a whiteboard pen and scribbling something on the board that Tony had absolutely no hope of understanding. 

Tony leaned over to Dean, catching Lindsey’s eye as well. 

“You guys got this?” he asked quietly. Both men nodded and slipped out of the room as discretely as possible. This FBI team might have a unique way of solving cases and an exceptional arrest record, but they weren’t prepared for something supernatural. Not when the guy giving them their direction in the case refused to consider anything outside of his world-view.

A few minutes later it looked like Charlie was winding down, coming to the end of his explanation and Adam leaned forward, ready to interrupt to give the others more time.

“To get a really accurate representation, I’d need more data,” the younger Eppes said. 

“What sort of data? It would be impossible to include every factor affecting a case,” Adam said. “The time needed would be prohibitive. How do you determine which factors are the most pertinent?”

And Eppes was off again. Tony glanced at his watch and tuned him out. Adam would take into account anything they could use in future.

Tony was stifling a yawn when Dean and Lindsey slipped back into the room and settled down next to him.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“Fine,” Lindsey said, smirking when Dean glared at him. Tony reached over and picked a bit of slimy flesh out of Dean’s hair.


End file.
